The old man slept in the clouds
Nose turned to find the scent of heaven
Beyond the reach of my footsteps.
Spurned, I sped past, intent
On the same search by a different route.
Not that the raw simplicity,
The bare rock and the wind,
The strain of muscle and sinew,
The idea of completion,
Did not tug at me.
But I sped past, intent
On finding the still voice
In the interplay
Of melodic lines, rooted
In human endeavour